


Conan The Destroyer

by sara_merry99



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:36:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_merry99/pseuds/sara_merry99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My back hit the wall, the rough edges of the bricks biting into my skin even through my shirt, at the same instant the door closed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conan The Destroyer

## Conan The Destroyer

#### by Sara

Author's website: <http://sara-merry99.livejournal.com>  
Not mine, damn it.  
Thanks to Arouette and Catyah for some really helpful comments and suggestions, y'all both made the story much better than it would have been. Farad betaed for me on no notice and put up with me sending her a revised version while she was working on the first one. ::hugs to all y'all::  
Written as a thank you giftie for Sassyinkpen, and because you can never have too much wall smut.  
This story is a sequel to: 

* * *

The day had been long and crappy, starting with a pre-dawn call to the warehouse district after the prime suspect in the Mitchelson homicide. Not a good start and it went downhill from there into a lengthy foot-chase along the pier, a dunking in the foul water of the Port of Cascade, a zone out in a filthy alley, a fire-fight outside a meth lab, and a painful brawl with a beefy goon. It was only redeemed by the arrest of Zach Harbron for two murders and half a dozen drug trafficking charges. 

But it was still a sixteen hour day of grinding annoyance interspersed with too much adrenaline and some real pain and I was wiped. 

All during the drive home I was thinking about what would happen when I got there. Sandburg would greet me with a kiss and a beer, like he did most nights in the two months since we'd become lovers. I was hoping he'd also turn on a mindless action film and give me a backrub that would wipe away the aches that Harbron's over-muscled assistant had left me with. That hope was just what I needed to get me through the drive home. Blair, beer, Arnold Schwarzenegger and a massage. There might be more in life than that, but I couldn't imagine wanting any of it. 

At least not at that moment. 

I suppose that's why I wasn't quite paying attention when I got to the door of the loft. I hadn't exactly dialed my senses down, I just wasn't paying a lot of attention to them. It's not like I was going to be in any danger walking into my own home. 

So I was shocked when I was grabbed by the wrist and pulled into the living room as I was still walking through the door. The surprise sent me into a fight response, all my senses opening wide, but there was nothing out of place in the room. Nothing unusual at all except Blair, shaking with emotion, pushing me back against the brick wall next to the door, herding me backwards. 

My back hit the wall, the rough surface of the brick biting into my skin even through my shirt, at the same instant the door closed. The sensation in my skin drew my awareness so I barely heard the bang of the door, barely heard Blair until he grabbed my shoulders, hands hot and hard. 

Before I got my brain entirely around what was happening his hands were skating over me, touching my face, my neck, my shoulders, my arms. He wasn't quite caressing me, though his touch was driving the aches away better than any pill ever could. Driving away the exhaustion too and leaving a slowly building fire of arousal in the pit of my stomach. 

His fingers were shaking slightly as he took off my tie and unbuttoned my shirt. He licked and kissed down my neck and onto my chest, nipping at the tendons under my ear and at the edge of my collar bone, while his fingers continued with the buttons. His mouth hit the collar of my undershirt and he pulled back with a snarl. For a second I thought he was going to tear it out of the way, but instead he untucked it from my pants, pushing it up under my chin. 

His hands and mouth went crazy on my chest, stroking and licking, deep sucking kisses and gentle sweeps of his fingers that just brushed the fine hairs on my skin. My skin was on fire and all of my sensory awareness focused there, the rest of my dials closing off until the world was muffled and grey and the only clarity, the only reality, was in the feel of his fingers, soft and warm on my chest and the rough, cold brick at my back like a hundred tiny blades. 

I was poised between the two, every movement into Blair's arms, his mouth, pushed another part of me against the wall, so that the exquisite pleasure and near pain chased each other around my skin. I put my hand on his head, soft hair wrapping around my fingers, around my wrist, and let the silkiness of it add to the layers of sensation. 

He whispered something against my skin; I could feel the words, feel the touch of them on me, but with my hearing so muffled, I couldn't hear what he was saying. Couldn't hear the words that I could feel, but they felt like love and passion and sparks flowing over my skin and pooling in my groin. 

I rocked my hips forward, thrusting into his belly, wincing as the zipper of my khakis bit into my sensitive skin, the hard edges painful even through protective layers of fabric. He backed away a step, caressing me with soothing noises that I could feel but not hear. He dropped to his knees slowly, running his hands down my chest as he went, my skin twitching and my muscles jumping with the lingering caress. 

On his knees in front of me, he rubbed his cheek against my cock through my pants. Before I could respond to that with more than an involuntary gasp, he was fumbling with my fly, his fingers gone unusually clumsy in his urgency, even desperation, to get to my skin. 

I held onto his head as he fumbled my hard-on out of my pants, groaning at the puff of air on my stomach as he licked the head. I had to press my back against the brick, inviting the distraction of the slight pain, to keep myself from holding his head still and fucking his mouth. But I could still feel desperation in him, feel in the grip of his hands on my hips, the frenzied movements of his tongue on the sensitive head of my cock, the vibration of his moans. His urgency ratcheted my arousal higher, higher. His hands were tight, hard, and his tongue flickered at that sensitive bundle of nerves at the head of my cock unraveling me with pleasure. He kept at it, relentless, until I came with an explosive groan and one involuntary thrust into his slick-hot-wet mouth. 

I pressed my head against the wall and gripped Blair's hair as he brought me through, swallowing my spunk, licking my cock until even that gentle stimulation was too much, then resting his cheek on my hip, mumbling soft words. 

As I recovered from my orgasm, my senses steadied themselves. The barbed-wire bite of the brick became the usual dull roughness, the highlights in Blair's hair came back as the dialed-down greyness passed, his rough breathing became audible through the muffling air. I pulled him to his feet and reached for him, but he twisted away from my hands. 

He ran his hands through his hair as he looked away from me, through the windows toward the bay. He was shaking with emotion, and I wanted to soothe him, but he avoided my hands when I reached toward him again. After a second he turned back to me and asked, "What the hell happened out there?" Still stupid from my orgasm, I just looked at him for a moment, unable to grasp the question. After a few heartbeats he snapped, "Simon called this afternoon, said you'd been in a fire-fight." 

I nodded. "Yeah. Some of the kids in the meth lab were armed," I said, as I fixed my pants so my dick wasn't hanging out. 

His lips were tight when he asked, "You zoned?" 

I winced. "Simon told you that too?" He made a sharp nod, and I went on, "It was fine, Sandburg. I was just over-tired and under-caffeinated and I got caught by the smell of some rotting squash in an alley." 

He turned back toward me, and his eyes were deep and dark and haunted by some emotion I wasn't sure I wanted to face. "This was while the tweakers were shooting at you?" 

I stepped toward him and wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close to me. For a second I was afraid he was going to break my hold and walk away, but in the end he leaned into me. I kissed the side of his head and said, "It was way before. Before we made it to the meth lab. It was just a smelly alley and I was only gone for a minute before Simon brought me out." 

Blair nodded against my chest and said, "Simon said you got banged up. You okay?" 

I kissed him again. "Harbron's goon's obviously gotten some special combat training and he's as big as an ox. He got in some good shots before I took him down. That's it." 

He took a deep, shaky breath, let it out slowly, then said, "Next time I need you to call me when shit like this happens, Jim. Getting that call from Simon that you'd zoned and been shot at...that just really sucked, man." His voice broke for a second and he took another deep breath, steadier this time. "You're really okay?" 

I kissed his head again. "I'm really okay. And I'm sorry." I pulled away enough to get a good look at him for the first time since I got home. His mouth was pinched and his lips pale and there were smudges under his eyes. "It's not the first time I've had a day like this...", I said. 

Blair forced a smile. "You'd think I'd be used to it." 

"It's different when you love someone," I said, leaning down to kiss him. We'd never used the word before, but I didn't doubt the emotions. 

"Different," he agreed, with a serious nod, then a smile bloomed across his face. "Yeah, and don't you forget it." He gave me another squeeze, then slipped out of my arms. As he walked toward the kitchen he said, "Make yourself comfortable while I get you a beer. Shirt off. And if you push the play button, I've got Conan The Destroyer all cued up. Grace Jones with a cute little tail, man, great way to wind down after a long day." 

I laughed and he looked at me over the dining room table, a question in his raised eyebrow. I waved the question away. "It's nothing important, Chief. Just exactly what I wanted." 

  * The End ***



* * *

End 

Conan The Destroyer by Sara: sara_merry99@yahoo.com  
Author and story notes above.

Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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